


too much, too late

by papertulips



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Drunken Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:08:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24882061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papertulips/pseuds/papertulips
Summary: "Atsumu," Kiyoomi says, and everything Atsumu needs to know is there, in the way he uttered his name, so desperately and out of breath. But Atsumu is Atsumu, always so oblivious to Kiyoomi's feelings, yet they both crave the same thing.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 130





	too much, too late

_A heart that's gone can never be caught._

"Here's a question," Atsumu says, and to Kiyoomi it sounds like a warning of what's to come since there really isn't anything worth answering that Atsumu could ask at three in the morning, drunk on the remains of brandy Kotarou brought over the last time they decided to drink at their place. "If there was like, a hot clone of myself, would you fuck me? I mean... him."

Kiyoomi tilts his head to look at Atsumu, exhaling the smoke from his lungs as his feet dangle from the tenth floor of their building, and, strangely so, it feels as if he can see the entire world from that spot.

"How hot are we talking?"

Kiyoomi, too, is drunk on a forty year old brandy and his head spins after every cigarette he flicks over the balcony. Kiyoomi has also known Miya Atsumu for long enough to be familiar with all the questionable things that come out of his pretty mouth after a drink too many. He has also gotten used to Atsumu evoking emotions deep inside of him that Kiyoomi wasn't even aware he was capable of feeling until his biggest nightmare stood on his doorstep with a charming grin across his face. 

"Like ten out of ten. Tom Hardy out of ten."

"Yeah, that's hot," Kiyoomi nods in approval, "I don't know. I can't just fuck someone because they are hot."

Atsumu rolls his eyes, taking a drag from the cigarette Kiyoomi is holding between his fingers. He watches the way Atsumu's lips wrap around it, his eyes fluttering closed and chest rising. He notices that he quite enjoys the sight of his own shirt stretching over Atsumu's strong chest; he still isn't sure why exactly he insists on borrowing shirts from Kiyoomi who wears them a size or two larger than his own. Maybe he's just too lazy to do laundry on certain days, or maybe he adores the scent of Kiyoomi's vanilla fabric softener on himself. Not like either of them will ever find out which one it is, anyway.

"Is the clone nice?"

"Are you trying to say that this version of myself isn't nice?" Atsumu looks at him with disbelief written all over his face, and maybe he looks cute when he's pretending that Kiyoomi's mean words actually hurt him.

"No, I'm trying to say that I would probably consider fucking your clone if it was nice. Like, if it cared about me."

Atsumu laughs but it quickly turns into a series of coughs and Kiyoomi helps by hitting him on the back, and all Atsumu does is yelp in pain. "Stop that."

Kiyoomi flattens his hand between Atsumu's shoulder blades, pressing the heel of his palm into his back as he drags it up and down, and Atsumu seems to relax under his touch.

"I didn't know you were such a sap." Kiyoomi's frowns, but he never stops the gentle stroke of his hand over Atsumu's muscles, sore from the intense practice they had yesterday.

"What's wrong with wishing for someone to care about me?"

Atsumu bites his lip, staring into Kiyoomi's profile as he wonders whether he should say it. But sober Atsumu never holds his tongue back from spitting everything that's on his mind, and intoxicated Atsumu is somehow the same, only more honest about the things that usually make him hesitate and lie.

"I care about you." His heart skips a beat just like he thought it would.

"Thanks," Kiyoomi replies shortly, and Atsumu can actually feel his heart sink until the latter continues, "I care about you, too. Maybe more than I should."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Atsumu asks, and the next time he looks back at the city in front of them, all the lights are melting into one another, the sound of cars passing below them suddenly seems so distant. He almost feels as if he could catch the falling stars into his palm.

Kiyoomi doesn't elaborate, instead, they spend the next few minutes in complete silence shared between the both of them. Atsumu is suddenly hyperaware of the proximity of their bodies when Kiyoomi decides to tangle his fingers in his hair. Kiyoomi has mentioned that its longer length suits him decently when he was either drunk or high, and that's pretty much the only reason Atsumu hasn't bothered to cut it even though the bangs that keep falling over his eyes are slowly becoming a nuisance, and despite the fact that the way Kiyoomi phrased that poor attempt of a compliment shouldn’t flatter him as much as it does.

"It's been a hard day." Kiyoomi breathes out, and Atsumu wishes he was the one who took that breath away from him.

"A hard month," Atsumu adds, and they both laugh. "I'm glad we can relieve some of the stress. Like this, you know," he waves his hand between the two of them, "together with another one of Bokuto’s drinks he paid too much for and never finished it."

Kiyoomi nods, and Atsumu rests his palm on his knee, as casually as he can pull it off. And Kiyoomi doesn't seem to mind as he presses his thigh lightly against Atsumu's as their feet hang from the balcony.

Atsumu melts into Kiyoomi's touch, head tipping back when he presses his fingers a little harder against his scalp and pulls on the blonde strands. Atsumu has been using Kiyoomi’s coconut scented conditioner lately.

"That feels good," Atsumu says, chest heaving when Kiyoomi doesn't stop for what feels like hours. Kiyoomi knows well that Atsumu's sensitive all over, and that even the smallest, most insignificant touch has a big effect on him. Atsumu feeds off of physical affection, and Kiyoomi learned it the harder way; only Atsumu could think that it's a great idea to wrap his arms around Kiyoomi's waist and rest his chin on his shoulder when he cooks, and there wasn’t a time when Kiyoomi wanted to binge watch some TV show and relax that Atsumu didn’t come uninvited for cuddles, even if he wasn't actually interested in what they were supposed to be watching. And like he always does, Kiyoomi just accepts the defeat as he plays with Atsumu's hair and listens to the barely audible, content noises he makes, his previous plans completely forgotten.

But this is different.

There is something in the way Atsumu's hand moves towards Kiyoomi's mid-thigh as his lips spread, and instead of words, a quiet whimper leaves his mouth, and Kiyoomi suddenly feels the start of something he has no idea how he will deal with in the morning boiling deep in his gut. They work in unison, Atsumu now switching between stroking and digging his fingers into Kiyoomi's thigh, and Kiyoomi enjoys it just like he does when the latter scratches his back or arms when he’s stressed out from school. Though, it doesn’t exactly help him relax, if anything, it just makes him feel a certain kind of excitement that he's embarrassingly familiar with; that always makes him greedy for more.

"Atsumu," Kiyoomi says, and everything Atsumu needs to know is there, in the way he uttered his name, so desperately and out of breath. But Atsumu is Atsumu, always so oblivious to Kiyoomi's feelings, yet they both crave the same thing.

"Hm?" Atsumu replies, eyes never opening, even when he tilts his head enough for Kiyoomi to see the way moonlight illuminates all the beautiful flaws on his skin.

Kiyoomi swallows, hard, "Don't you wanna kiss me?" He swears his heart tears through his skin at that moment.

Atsumu's eyes shoot wide open, and he stares at Kiyoomi for a moment too long. _Does he?_

"Atsumu," Kiyoomi says, and everything Atsumu needs to know is there, in the way he uttered his name, so desperately and out of breath. But Atsumu is Atsumu, always so oblivious when it comes to Kiyoomi's feelings, yet they both crave the same thing.

Kiyoomi's fingers tremble, still laced through the warmth of Atsumu's soft hair. It suddenly feels unwelcoming, and Kiyoomi asks the God why did she make him such a fool. 

That one moment that flees right past them like all the memories they have made together in the apartment that lies in the dark behind them, it's enough for Kiyoomi to pull away, retrieving everything he had to offer back into himself so that the only thing that's left behind is his unanswered question hanging in the air. Lonely. 

"Don't forget to close the windows," is what manages to leave his mouth, throat closing up as his heart leaks out of his chest.

Atsumu realizes that he will never tear Kiyoomi's walls down again.

**Author's Note:**

> this is a super old piece i wrote and decided to rewrite   
> hope everyone has a beautiful day


End file.
